Behind Blue Eyes
by The Lady Nightingale
Summary: Loki, in prison, thinking too much. Inspired by the song of the same name.


_Author's note: I heard the Limp Bizkit version of 'Behind Blue Eyes' the other day on the radio. I'd forgotten how much of a Loki song it was, and this appeared in my head. I know other people have done it, and probably better. But I haven't managed to see TDW yet, so I had to do something while I waited for the post to bring my copy..._  
_If you don't like this, mea culpa. If you do, thanks also are due to A Lonely Angel 6 who convinced me to post it._

No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man  
To be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes.

No one knows what it's like  
To be hated  
To be fated  
To telling only lies.

Loki had tried sitting with his back against the barrier, a pointless show of disdain - who was watching? No one would see except his fellow prisoners and their opinions mattered little. When the magic began to numb and pain him beyond where he was in contact with it, therefore, he gave up and sat against the wall. He had furniture, books, his magic - with limits. His own little kingdom. Did they expect him to be grateful? To show sorrow, remorse? Better to sit on the floor, lean against the wall and wait for whatever was to come.

His wounds pained him, but he would never stoop to asking for assistance, for relief. Even if he had found it possible to believe it would come. At least he didn't have to share his cell. He had maintained the glamour on Midgard once it was clear he would loose, and kept it up now in case, only in case. For pride. For pride he would bear what he didn't deserve and keep up the pretence. No one had examined or even offered to examine him after the mindless green beast had beaten him into the ground - those injuries were barely noticeable now, but these were designed to last a good while longer - and with no cell mates no one need ever know about what The Other had done to his 'ally'.

Not that any of the Aesir would care. Green eyes? Blue eyes? They probably couldn't even remember which he normally had. When was the last time any of them looked at him anyway? He knew all they cared about were red eyes. His red eyes.  
Monster.

He had told the little spider he wasn't; but, well, what did one Midgardian matter really? Or one more lie? Besides, he had hoped to be a good king, as much as he could behind the walls that bound him within his own mind. Better than Thor would have been. The madness _would_ have ended with his rule because the Chitauri would have gone on to the greater worlds their true Master wanted and left Loki alone to manage Midgard; a tributary king, but king in his own right. He hadn't wanted the mortals to be afraid of his other face.

Asgardians, though, were another matter. They knew him and loathed him for what he was. Why didn't he just abandon his Aesir form then? Be the thing they hated and feared and demanded of him?

In his heart, Loki knew he would never do that. Partly, because he was so well trained, so eager to please his _parents _that he had learned to hate himself. Somewhere however, behind the mind control and the torture, the insanity of the abyss and the terror of Ragnarok, Loki was still an Odinson. He loved his mother and his brother; was desperate for his father to notice, to care - even if he no longer allowed himself to dream of approval.  
No, Loki.  
Monster.

He wondered if Thor would come. Or Frigga. Yes, she would come, surely. Odin? If he wanted to speak to - not with, never _with_ - his wayward not-son, he would have Loki hauled up in chains to the throne room to be lectured, to be viewed by the court. 'See this? This sought to destroy us all. Choose with whom you will be numbered.' At least Loki would know his not-father remembered he existed, even if he had to endure the stares and whispers. But his mother... not his mother. Never again his mother. Frigga. Frigga would come to him.

But he mustn't hope for that. He was dangerous, and being near him was dangerous. He hadn't got the Tesseract and he was hardly hiding in a crevice on a barren moon. Granted, Asgard was safer than most of the Nine, but Loki held no illusions about his chances. He knew pain. Even pain as The Other enjoyed inflicting it. There was no chance for him, or anyone who was close to him. Especially here, where he could not run, could not get away from anyone who was too close when _T__hey _came for him.

If Odin and Thor wouldn't kill the monster, there was Someone who would make a death-sentence feel like mercy.

If the descendants of Bor could not be made to see that it was the proper business of Kings and Princes to kill Monsters, perhaps they could be made to withhold what they saw as mercy. She would come. He knew she would come. He wanted her to come, but he mustn't let it happen.

Drive her away. Hurt her. Lie. God of Lies. Words like knives, like daggers. Wound her. Drive her away.  
Keep her safe.

Monster?

But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be.  
I have hours only lonely  
My love is vengeance, it's never free.


End file.
